Acrophobia
by Awesome-Sauce-Eater
Summary: Sherlock has a secret fear of heights that comes to light at a crime scene. Rubbish summary but, hey.


**Okay, so I've wanted someone to write a story about Sherlock being scared of heights for a while, I don't know why, I just did. I've also been wanting to write a new story myself as I haven't wrote one in ages, and it was only last night that I put two and two together, and thought, why don't I just write this story myself, instead of hoping someone else will? I'm such a genius... Anyway, enjoy! :D**

Sherlock made his way up the steps to the crime scene. Lestrade had text him earlier about a woman's body that had been found on the roof of an office block; not a particularly interesting case (a simple stab wound to the stomach had killed her), but Sherlock hadn't had a case in ages and apparently John does not approve of him shooting the wall in order to relieve his boredom and will get very angry if it happens again.

So, after John's horrid suggestion that Sherlock could go and get the groceries this week if he was that bored, he had decided to come along to the crime scene, and try and salvage what evidence Anderson hadn't managed to destroy yet; leaving John to make the weekly trip to Tesco, as usual.

Donovan greeted him at the top of the steps that led to the roof, with her usual disapproving sneer and the shout of "Freak's here!"

Sherlock ignored her and walked over to the body, his coat billowing out behind him like a cape, making him look like some sort of mysterious vampire. Luckily for Sherlock, the body was in the middle of the roof top, meaning there was no need whatsoever for him to even venture near the edges of the roof, which, he had noticed on his journey up the many steps, was very high up.

Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, and the body that currently lay on it, Sherlock gulped down his hidden phobia, and stuffed his violently shaking hands firmly into the deep pockets of his coat.

He looked down at the body, desperately trying to deduce something from it, but he was finding it hard to think straight. He blinked, and took some deep breaths, trying to get some oxygen to his brain, and then saw a short hair on the victim's face, that clearly didn't belong to her.

He turned, and began to point this out to Lestrade, clearing his throat and starting his sentence again when his dry mouth made his voice crackly and hoarse. He could feel a sheen of cold sweat across his forehead, and Lestrade, obviously noticing that something was wrong, put a gentle hand on Sherlock's arm, and quietly asked if he was okay.

"I'm fine Lestrade!" Sherlock snarled, snatching his arm away from Lestrade's concerned touch. Lestrade raised his eyebrows, but turned back to the crime scene when Sherlock simply stared at him; perhaps Sherlock actually was fine?

Lestrade walked back down the stairs to deal with the woman who had discovered the body, after coming up to the roof for a cigarette in her lunch break, leaving Donovan, Anderson and Sherlock at the crime scene.

Sherlock was still bent over the body, but he was starting to feel dizzy and sick, so he straightened up to his full height, closing his eyes and taking some more deep breaths. The dizziness calmed a little, but he still felt nauseas, so he stayed stood up, instead of bending over the body again.

That was when he heard Donovan's voice.

"Oi! Freak! C'mere and look at this!" He looked over to where Donovan was standing, and noted with dismay that it was near the wall at the edge of the rooftop. He knew that to keep this horrible human phobia hidden, he would have to act normal and go and look at whatever Donovan had found.

So he strode over to where she was stood, feeling his legs weaken and become more jelly-like with each step he took. As he neared the edge of the rooftop, he felt his heart begin to pound more violently, and he could feel his whole body shaking. Just as he reached her, he began to feel light headed, and quickly took some gulps of air to try and ward off the feeling.

Unfortunately, his deep breath method didn't seem to be working anymore, and he felt himself swaying on his feet, his vision going black just as he felt a pair of arms around him, catching him and gently lowering him down.

He woke up lying on the floor. He couldn't have unconscious for more than a few seconds, as Donovan was kneeling next to him, and Anderson still hadn't noticed that anything was wrong.

"Are you okay?" Donovan asked gently, a far cry from her usual glares and sneers of "Freak". Sherlock mumbled, not making any coherent sentence, and Donovan leaned closer to him. As she got nearer to his face, she noticed how pale he was, and how heavy and irregular his breathing was. Turning her head, she shouted for Anderson, who laughed as he saw Sherlock lying on the floor.

"What's the freak done this time? Tripped over his own feet?" he shouted, walking towards the pair on the floor with a smug grin on his face.

A grin that quickly slipped away as he neared the two people and saw Donovan's panicked face, and Sherlock looking incredibly pale, struggling to sit up on shaking arms. He rushed the last few steps and fell to his knees opposite Donovan, Sherlock in between them. Together they put their arms behind Sherlock's back, taking his weight off his weak, trembling arms, and helped him to sit against the wall.

Anderson stood back and started to call Lestrade, as Donovan sat with Sherlock, trying her best to reassure him without properly knowing what was wrong with him. She had one arm around his shoulders, and the other on his belly, trying her best to get him to slow his breathing down. She could tell that this seemed to be some sort of panic attack, but she had no idea what to do, apart from to try and comfort him the self-proclaimed sociopath as best she could.

Despite his thick wool coat, Donovan noticed that Sherlock was still shivering violently, and, ignoring the cold wind blowing across the rooftop, she slipped her own jacket off and wrapped it as best she could around Sherlock's shoulders.

Soon, Lestrade was making his way over the rooftop to where the little party of three were sat. He knelt in front of Sherlock, and waved Anderson and Donovan away, knowing full well that Sherlock would already be feeling highly humiliated that they had seen him in his weak, vulnerable state. After they had moved back to the crime scene, he gently put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Sherlock. What's wrong?" he asked, gently, but firmly, letting Sherlock know that he wanted a straight answer and no nonsense. Sherlock just turned his face away, embarrassed, and Lestrade sighed. He looked around the rooftop trying to decipher what could be wrong with his consulting detective before realising. The rooftop!

"Sherlock are you, are you...scared of heights?" Lestrade asked, whispering the last three words so that Donovan and Anderson wouldn't hear. Sherlock nodded his head ever so slightly before whimpering in shame, refusing to look Lestrade straight in the eyes.

Lestrade knew it was better to simply leave it at that, rather than trying to question Sherlock further, as he could see that Sherlock was already highly ashamed of having his secret phobia revealed to everyone in such a dramatic way.

He helped Sherlock to his feet, and attempted to take Sherlock's arm and support him as he walked across the rooftop. But Sherlock refused to listen to Lestrade telling him that he was still weak from his recent panic attack, and walked to the stairs by himself.

It was only when Sherlock's legs gave out as he reached the stairs that he admitted defeat. Luckily, Lestrade had been close behind him and had caught Sherlock's arm before he tumbled down the stairs. Lestrade helped Sherlock down the stairs slowly, and didn't go back to the crime scene until he saw that Sherlock was safely in the back of a taxi, on his way to Baker Street.

Lestrade sent a quick text to John, telling him of Sherlock's recent panic attack for he knew full well that as soon as Sherlock got home he would hide the whole thing from John and pretend that nothing was wrong. He smiled as John sent him a text back, assuring Lestrade that he would make sure Sherlock was alright.

Of course he would be fine. Lestrade knew that Sherlock would never admit it, but John was Sherlock's best friend, and he would know exactly how to comfort him.

**Okay, so that's the end guys! I know the paragraphs and the story itself is probably quite short, but they always look longer on Microsoft Word! I kept thinking of my recent family holiday as I wrote this, because my Mum is scared of heights, and one day we climbed a load of steps near our hotel to get to this viewing point (and I must say the views were fantastic), but basically, my Mum ended up sitting on the floor refusing to move and my Dad had to come and rescue her :') It was quite funny. **

**Also, one last thing guys, and this is no joke, I am being deadly serious. There is a chemistry teacher at my college called "Mr Anderson". HOW AWESOME IS THAT?**

**Ahem, yes anyway. Please drop me a review if you have time, and also if anyone has any ideas for stories you can put those in the review too, because I'm really stuck for ideas at the moment and I want to write more! Thank you xxx**


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